Incipiamus Denuo
by Xiggypop
Summary: Harry is convinced his life can't possibly become any more convoluted than what it is. Add in a series of literal metaphors and one man's determination, and Harry has something far more perplexing and tricky to deal with than surviving another school year. Eventual Harry x Voldemort/Tom Riddle


**A/N:** Another new story. This is probably just going to be a serious of drabbles and one shots that somewhat follow a consistent plot line. If that makes any sense. Anyone following Turning Away that is waiting for an update, I can promise that I've started writing it out and you can expect it soon. Enjoy! Oh, yes this isn't AU. I have it up on my profile that my next story would be an AU, but this isn't it.

**Disclaimer** I hold no rights to the Harry Potter franchise. None of this is mine. A big thanks to Mrs. Rowling for letting us all play with her characters.

Harry Potter had an odd life, this he knew. But what he was currently being faced with was just a little too surreal, even for him. A quick touch to his eyes confirmed that he was indeed wearing his glasses, which left him with only two other options for what he was seeing. One; he was still asleep in his bed in the spare bedroom of the Dursley's home. Or two; he'd finally gone mad from the pressure of the last school year and had begun to hallucinate. Otherwise there just wasn't a sane reason for Draco Malfoy to be standing, rather morosely if he cared to notice, on the door step of Number 4, Privet Drive at ten in the morning. In his pyjamas. With a twig. Not a wand. A twig.

The door slammed shut before the whiny blond had the chance to open his mouth.

Uncle Vernon, as loud and wide as ever, appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Boy! Stop slamming doors in the house!"

"Sorry." Harry mumbled offhandedly. He ignored the odd look that his Uncle gave him and stared blankly at the door. What was he to do in a situation like this? Did he send an owl to someone? What would he even write them? Oh hello, Harry here. Hope the summer holiday is treating you well. Me? Well, you know Muggles and all that. Oh and Draco bloody Malfoy stopped by this morning. Thought you might like to know before I gave him a cup of sugar and sent him on his way.

Well, he could figure out the details later.

There was a knock which caused Harry to wince. Maybe if he stayed quiet, Malfoy would think he'd gone back to bed or died of a heart attack.

"Potter, I can see you from the window. Open the door."

_Well_, he thought, _I guess that plan is out_.

"Potter!"

"Merlin's beard, Malfoy!" Harry groaned, cracking the door open only a few inches. Green eyes peered out at the wizard on the door step. Now that he was really looking, Harry couldn't help but laugh. Malfoy was standing there, arms folded across his chest as he shivered in the unusually chill air, without shoes and hair ruffled from a nights sleep. Oh, how Harry wished Ron and Hermione could be there to see it.

"Blimey Malfoy. I never pegged you as a Unicorn lover."

Malfoy's cheeks colored instantly. He shifted self consciously in a useless attempt to cover the dancing horses on his night shirt.

"They were a gift from my mother last Christmas." He said crossly. "But I suppose you wouldn't be able to appreciate something like that would you, Potter? I bet your mudblood mother wouldn't have even been able to afford fabric of this quality." The blond adopted a smug smirk that had Harry slamming the door again without another word. If Malfoy honestly thought insulting his mother would goad him into leaving the safety of his relatives house, Harry would set up the appointment at St. Mungo's for him himself.

Uncle Vernon appeared again from the kitchen, looking decidedly angry at Harry, which was nothing new. Harry ducked the blow on instinct, but came up too quickly and was unprepared for the second swing aimed at the back of his head. It hit him across his cheek instead, stinging a little as the cool air touched it.

"Aha! Got you that time, boy!" Uncle Vernon said proudly. It had been a few years since Vernon was able to catch Harry and it put the man in an excellent mood whenever he managed to do so. Harry, who had had far worse beatings in his life, glared at his Uncle's retreating figure. Maybe he would send an owl to Sirius about his latest bruise. Harry shook his head, smiling at the thought of his godfather showing up, looking wild and enraged on the doorstep of his Aunt and Uncle's house. As fun as it would be to see the Dursely's cowering in fear, Harry wouldn't bother his Godfather or friends with something so small. After all, ever since Ron, Fred and George rescued him the summer before his second year, the Dursely's had lightened up considerably in fear of any more escapades. Harry wasn't sure what seemed worse to his relatives; the fear of dealing with the magical community or being the center of neighborhood gossip.

Pressing his ear to the door, Harry listened for any sounds of life from outside. Besides the rustling of the bushes out front, he couldn't hear anything unusual. Checking the window, the almost fifteen year old was able to confirm that Malfoy had indeed left. What was more, the stick he had been wielding lay abandoned on the stoop. A few moments passed where Harry stared at it from the window._ What harm could there be in retrieving it? _He thought, _A lot, knowing Malfoy. It's probably been cursed to make me vomit uncontrollably or something._ Still, there was a pulling curiosity that Harry was having a hard time ignoring. Without another second of hesitation, he pulled open the front door, ducked his head out to check if anyone was watching, and snatched the stick up before darting back inside. This time he remembered to close the door softly.

Harry held his breath and waited for something to happen. When a few minutes had passed and the stick showed no signs of coming to life or having been tampered with, Harry smiled in relief. Nothing strange at all about it.

"Makes me wonder what Malfoy was doing with it then." He mumbled out loud on his way up the stairs. It was odd enough that he had even been at his house, let alone with some sort of stick, which had turned out to be an olive branch of all things. He had just been wondering where Malfoy had even gotten it from when realization stopped his thoughts mid-way. Malfoy knew where he lived! And icy chill swept over him and it was all Harry could do to not fall back down the stairs. If Malfoy knew, that meant his parents must know as well. How else could Malfoy have gotten to a muggle residence and left with such ease? His family must have apparated him there or given him a portkey. If the Malfoy's knew where he lived, that meant that the rest of Death Eaters probably did as well. That meant...the realization hit him harder than a hippogriff's kick.

Voldemort knew where to find him during the summers.

_Voldemort knew where he lived!_

The effort it took to force his legs to move was enormous, but Harry needed to write a letter to Dumbledore, the Weasley's, Sirius, anyone who would have an idea of what to do! Tossing the stick on his bed, Harry spent the next several hours penning letters of urgency back and forth to his friends and Godfather. Mr. Weasley had been the first to send an owl back in response to the letter he had sent Ron, Sirius's reply not long after. Both had been short and to the point, telling him to wait for Dumbledore's orders and to stay indoors at all costs. Neither Voldemort nor his Death Eaters could enter the Dursley's home, but Harry would be free game if he left. Another hour passed with only two more letters, one from Ron and the other Hermione with both reassuring him that Dumbledore would know what to do, before Harry received his Headmaster's reply. It was delivered by one of the school owls and was only a single line.

_ Ten_

What in Merlin's name did that even mean?! Overcome with fury, Harry threw the nearest object at the wall. The ink well shattered and left a large dark stain on the wall that would likely send Aunt Petunia into a fit. Harry didn't care. Half the summer was over with hardly any contact from his friends or the magical community and when he finally received something, it was just to tell him to stay inside and be a good boy. Or in Dumbledore's case, just a number with absolutely no meaning. The vagueness of the situation was unbearable and only added to Harry's simmering anger. Hedwig hooted softly from her perch, sensing her owner's mood. Harry forced himself not to snap at her. It wasn't her fault he'd been cooped up all summer. If anything, Hedwig was his only friend during these times and Harry was grateful she had come back at all after sending his letters out.

"I just want to know what's going on, girl. Is that so much to ask?" The snowy owl hooted again as if saying yes, to which Harry just laughed. What could he do now? It was probably useless to try contacting Dumbledore again. If Harry received a letter anything similar to the last one, he might just lose control and start hexing objects around the house. Writing to Ron and Hermione would only result in the same vague messages he'd been receiving from them all summer, which would just anger him even more. All he could really do was lay in his room and wait for a more detailed plan of action. Thinking of laying back and doing nothing only increased Harry's motivation. How could they expect to wait around calmly, knowing that Death Eaters could be staking out the premises at the very moment? Especially after what happened during the Triwizard Tournament...

Harry closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of Cedric's lifeless body hitting the ground. A red, murderous gaze bore into him until Harry snapped his eyes open again. He glanced out the window nervously. If that man- no _monster-_ was out there, waiting for him, there was no way Harry would be able to wait calmly for more instructions. If no one would help him, he'd have to figure out something himself.

It took a little over two hours, but Harry was able to successfully pack everything into his trunk that he would need to survive. He wasn't sure where he could go, but anywhere was better than where he currently was as a sitting duck. He would leave tonight after the Dursley's left. They were off to some award they had received an invitation for last minute. Harry hadn't really been paying attention to the minor details when Uncle Vernon had been explaining it to him. All he knew was that he had a small window of time between eight pm and midnight that he wouldn't be passing up.

Waiting had been excruciating, but worthwhile in the end. After waiting a couple extra hours to reassure himself and double back for anything he might have forgotten, Harry shut off the light in his bedroom and grabbed onto the handle of his trunk. He was planning to shrink it down and cast a featherlight charm on it before hailing the Knight Bus and taking it to the Weasley's. Even though he still wasn't allowed magic outside of school, Harry felt that in this case it would be justified. He could deal with the Ministry once he was safe and alive, far away from Privet Drive. Just as he had sent Hedwig off, he heard it. The sound of footsteps. Harry's heart stopped. No, they couldn't have gotten in! But as the footsteps drew closer, coming up the stairs, Harry knew the Death Eaters must have figured out how to get past the wards of his Aunt and Uncle's. There was no time to escape, even if he got out his Firebolt and tried to fly out the window, he wouldn't have enough time to charm his luggage or be able to deflect the array of spells and curses he was sure they would be throwing at him. No, he would have to stay and hold his ground for as long as he could while hoping the wards had triggered an alarm somewhere in Dumbledore's office.

Sweat trickled down his brow, but Harry let his feet spread out into a defensive stance. His wand was held out before him, his muscles pulled as tight as the string of a bow, ready to stun as soon as the door opened. He could hear voices, hushed and excited, coming from the other side. Harry swallowed down his fear. He wouldn't go down without a fight.

The door handle turned.

Harry gripped his wand more tightly.

The door opened and his room was flooded with the light of several lit wand tips. Harry ducked down to the floor, expecting spells to start flying any moment.

"Is he in here? Move over, I can't see a thing from back here!"

"Quit acting like a child! This is a serious matter. Potter! Come out from behind the bed so we can get a move on!"

Harry recognized that voice. Hesitantly, he lifted his head up, peering over his comforter at the group standing in his doorway. "Professor Moody?" He asked warily.

"That's right, boy. Now get up, we have a tight schedule to follow!"

A young woman with purple hair pushed her way into the room, taking a good look around before leaning forward and squinting.

"Oooh, he looks just like I thought he would. Wotcher, Harry!"

Harry, feeling rather embarrassed and awkward still crouched behind his bed, stood up. "Er-"

Harry was cut off by a new voice. "This is Nympadora, part of the guard sent to escort you from here." It was Lupin, who had come forward into the room. Harry smiled grandly at his old professor.

The woman called Tonks bristled. "Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus. It's Tonks."

Harry stifled a laugh at the way Lupin rolled his eyes. "Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only."

Tonks grimaced. "So would you if your fool of a mother had called you Nymphadora."

"Looks like you're already packed and ready to go, Harry! Must've deciphered Albus' letter pretty quickly, eh?" Tonks said, turning to face Harry and smiling brightly.

It took Harry a moment to understand exactly what she meant and then it clicked. Ten! It had been a time, not just a number! Looking quickly to the alarm clock on his night stand, Harry saw that it indeed read ten. So they had devised a plan after all...

"Er, yeah. Real easy, that one. Not too much trouble." He said, avoiding eye contact.

Eventually Lupin introduced him to the rest of the group, who were part of a guard meant to escort him to the headquarters of a group called the Order of the Phoenix. Having already packed everything ahead of time, it took them only a few moments to leave the house and prepare to take off. Harry had snatched up the olive branch Malfoy had left earlier before they left. He twirled it around in his fingers before tossing it off into the backyard of the Dursleys. He still hadn't figured out what it's purpose was.

"What was that you threw?" Lupin asked from his right.

Harry lied easily, "Just an olive branch I found earlier. Not sure how it got out here."

Lupin looked at the twig curiously in the dark. "Perhaps a neighbor left it for your relatives."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Why would someone do that?"

Lupin shrugged. "It was an old tradition a long time ago to extend an olive branch to someone you did not get along with, to try and make peace and eradicate any past differences. I don't know if it was the same with Muggles, but with what we know of your relatives, I'm sure there's one or two neighbors who might feel the need to do something of the sort."

Harry's mind mulled over the new information. Draco Malfoy had shown up with an olive branch. Could that have been the reason? To make peace?It couldn't be that simple could it? Moody's voice brought him back from his thoughts as they prepared to take off. He could think on it later after he'd arrived at wherever they were going. It was time to go and the open sky looked ever so inviting tonight.


End file.
